


Harry Potter and the Binding

by ImperfectSilence



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bumbling Dumbledore, Gen, Sentient Magical Artifacts, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 14:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11083110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectSilence/pseuds/ImperfectSilence
Summary: A normal year, that's all Harry wanted. Not being thrown into a tournament, not discovering new powers, not having to question everything that he knows. But, when bumbling fools use things they do not understand as means to run a children's competition, things happen. Things happen that no one expected  or desired.





	Harry Potter and the Binding

“Harry… Potter.”   
It wasn’t, it couldn’t- he hadn’t entered so he shouldn’t- but it always- yearly test- why me? Harry found himself standing, found himself walking toward the front, where the other champions had gone. He tried not to run, tried not to let the swirling storm inside him show, not to acknowledge how it was tearing him apart. He tried to turn to walk around the head table, but a firm hand turning his shoulder left him no other choice.   
Ten feet. His stomach felt the way it did when Vernon dragged them out to that rock on the sea. That small boat rising and falling on the waves, the horrendous pitching and yawing feeling.   
Seven feet. His hair was on end now, the waves of unease sending signals all over. It felt like the Mirror of Erised, a subtle but dangerous undertone to come closer, to peer deeper. It felt like the aura Professor Lupin gave off as he transformed, the rot, the sense of wrongness- it only strengthened.   
Three feet. The sensation was physical now, the yanking on his body, the pull towards the emerald flame, dancing, drinking in the magic around it. He could barely keep his feet the pull was so strong. One more step, one more and he could move away from it. Just one more…  
Two feet. He tripped. He had been so focused on the feeling his magic was giving off that he hadn’t been paying attention to his feet. His foot caught the edge of the stand and he pitched forward. His shoulder shoved the stand off balance, the cup careening atop it. His glasses askew, Harry watched as the golden goblet tilted one way, another, before overbalancing and falling on him. The moment the flames hit his skin, he screamed.   
BOUND. BIND. COMPETE. PURIFY. BOUND. BIND. PURIFY. SELECT. BIND. THREE. FOUR. FOUR BIND. THREE COMPETE. BOUND. BIND. BIND.  
The thrum of ancient magic, of power so foolishly bound and contrived, so arrogantly placed and used- the growl of primality, of something that had no right being woken burned through Harry’s mind. The mantra, the words etched themselves into memory. The Ministry had no idea what the Goblet of Fire was. They had used something far beyond their understanding for such a trivial matter. Something that Harry felt, they had no right to.   
From the audience, no one had any clue what was going on. A fourth champion had been called, but he seemed reluctant to go. As he got closer and closer to the front, the weight of what he did seemed to sink in. His face paled, his steps slowed. He now realized what he had gotten himself into. But there was no backing out. All of Hogwarts groaned when he tripped, while the other schools laughed. Any who had harbored sympathy for the fourth year who had gotten in over his head, well, they didn’t care so much anymore. School pride and all that rot. Then the flames lit.  
One moment, Harry had been on the ground, the cup falling towards him. The next, he was a ball of fire. Cerulean covered his form, lances of emerald and azure arced out before falling back into the inferno. Inside, they could only guess. At first you heard the screams, but then… silence. The fire seemed to build, and build, before whooshing out, smoke running down the alleys between tables, three feet thick. Everybody craned their necks to see what had happened.

“Potter? Potter? Can you hear me Mr. Potter?” Harry tried to move, tried to see but he couldn’t. His limbs felt like lead, and everything was far, far too bright. “Mr. Potter? Can you move?”   
“Pr- Professor? What happened?” He croaked, feeling like he had just done another round with the snake.   
“I don’t know, Mr. Potter. You tripped, and had some kind of reaction to the Goblet.”  
“Yeah. Was too busy trying not to fall over to remember to watch my feet.” Harry added.   
“Falling over? Were you sick Mr. Potter?”  
“N- err, maybe. I don’t think so, but everything felt bad. As I got closer to the goblet, it got worse. I was almost past it when-“   
“Harry, m’boy, you must go into the other room. The other champions are waiting for you.” Dumbledore said.   
“Yeah.” The spots had just started to fade when a pair of hands grabbed his wrists and dragged him up. Everything went bright again and he staggered to the table, resting on the edge of it as he adjusted again.  
“This way.” Someone grabbed his elbow and began navigating him.   
“Thanks.” Harry wheezed, trying to get a sense of his, well, senses.

 

“Right. Now that we’re all here- Merlin! Mr. Potter what happened?” an unfamiliar voice began.   
“Mr. Potter had an accident with the goblet. Let’s get this out of the way so that he may go to the infirmary.” The voice on his elbow said.   
“So, yes, now that we’re all here, though maybe not in one piece, welcome to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. You-“  
“Quad-Wizard.” The voice said again.  
“I beg your pardon?” Ludo stopped.   
“There’s four of them- Quad-Wizard tournament.”   
“But that doesn’t roll off the tongue…” Ludo protested, quailing under the glare from Harry’s supporter. “You’ve all been selected by the Goblet of Fire to represent your schools in the upcoming tournament.”   
“If they’re selected based on school, then what school will Mr. Potter be representing?”  
“Hogwarts of course.” Bagman responded.  
“And Mr. Diggory?”  
“Hogwarts as well.” Bagman continued.  
“Then we need to wait, since there’ll be two more contestants on their way soon.”  
“Two more?” Bagman sounded confused.  
“Yes. If Hogwarts has two champions then so should Durmstrang and Beaubatons.”  
“Don’t be absurd! Mr. Potter is an irregularity. He is the Boy-Who-Lived!” Bagman added.  
“I hate that name.” Harry muttered.  
“That does not give him special privileges.” Snape butted in.  
“Exactly.” Harry’s elbow guide agreed, “Hence they cannot represent their schools, at least not formally. Perhaps the Goblet was improperly commanded for this tournament. Or perhaps it picked the strongest four contestants, as was the case when the Romans had it. With varying numbers, of course.”  
“Are you implying that the ministry bungled the arrangements for the Tri-Wizard Tournament?” Crouch roared.  
“Seeing as we have four participants, chained to the thing, yes. They did tell you that, right? You’re chained to the Goblet until the tasks are over. It gets creative if you try to resist.”   
“Professor Maxime, iz this true? Are we truly bound to zis.. thing?”   
“Igor. Vat haf you gotten me into?”   
“Am I correct in assuming you had no idea either, Mr. Diggory?” Harry’s elbow guide added softly in the insuring silence.   
“My Dad said to trust the Ministry. I trust him.” Cedric replied shakily.

A nudge pulled Harry back to the present.   
“So, I doubt you were awake for much of that. Eh Mr. Potter?” The voice asked.   
“No, I was!” Harry immediately said.  
“Right, then what dates’ the first task?”   
“….”  
“How about the Ball? You should remember that one.”  
“…”  
“Don’t lie to someone, Mr. Potter, without a damn good reason. Ignorance, by the way, is never a valid reason unless it concerns fashion or décor. Then, always defer to the missus. The First task is November 7th, and the Yule Ball is the 24th of December. Think you’ll remember that?”  
“Yessir.” Harry said.   
“Good. Let’s get you to Pomphrey before she sends out hunting parties.”


End file.
